What Happens in the Pictures
by owlhipster
Summary: An anxious Saadt confronts Arthur about some interesting developments in their relationships. /Oneshot.


**This lovely little Drabble was written for a friend of mine. She did edit it, so a good part of the credit goes to her!**

**Do enjoy, and review!**

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Saadt knocked on Arthur's door with a sense of hurry in her voice when she called. She needed to talk to him and needed to do it now. After some grumbling and turning off Doctor Who on the telly, he answered, very confused as to why his neighbour would need him. As far as he was concerned, they didn't need to see each other until dinner time. But they were friends right? So he should hear her out, maybe someone died and she needed comfort? Whatever, to hell with all of this. He was never adept at this people stuff. She stared at him with her hair dripping onto her dark blue shirt. At least she had clothes on. That other time had been quite awkward, to say the least.

"You seem a bit tense." He commented, and walked into the kitchen to get her a towel.

"Yeah, I just found something when I was on my iPhone. Something that concerns both of our interests," Saadt replied and took the rarely used kitchen towel and wrapped her hair with it, ignoring her friends half-choked protests. Arthur stared for a few moments in disbelief to comprehend what Saadt had done. That was so unsanitary. But then again it was her hair, and she probably didn't care that her hair would smell like lemon grass and smoke for the rest of the day. She usually smelled like hookah-smoke, so it didn't really make a difference.

"What is it?" He asked her quietly, and leaned over the counter, wondering if this conversation could be held over tea. Should he start on the kettle?

"Well…remember that one time you and I drank too much for our own good, and well for some reason you passed out in my closet?" She replied, fiddling with the hem of her shirt a bit.

Arthur gulped and averted his eyes. He definitely wasn't fond of that memory, it was embarrassing, and he was mortified when she had found him there. It took him all of his pride to pull himself out of there. But where was all this going, he was sure they hadn't done anything too stupid except for maybe disturb the neighbours with awful piano music, and their loud laughter.

"What is it?" he asked in anticipation. What could be so important that Saadt had come over right after a shower? But to be fair she never did blow-dry her hair. Saadt sighed and took her phone out from her jeans, a size too big Arthur noted, and unlocked it. She then handed him the phone and Arthur's face turned a shade of red that was seemingly impossible. Oh. Hell. No. "These have to be photoshopped." He told her and pushed the phone across the table, face down. Arthur sent the device a mixed look of horror and embarrassment.

It wasn't the part that she was kissing his cheek in the picture (a platonic gesture, of course), since that was actually normal for the two despite their culture clashes. It was the fact that he had a fur coat on, and that it didn't stop there. He had a bunch of jewellery on, including stud earrings—he thought his piercings were already healed by now—and a diamond bracelet which was too feminine for him. He also wore a pair of boots with spike on them and a pair of skinny jeans. But the jeans he had been wearing all day that day because he was just hanging around his house and possibly visiting Saadt. It was almost never that he wore anything but dress pants, but since it was just Saadt he decided that he didn't really need to wear his normal clothes.

"I'm not deleting them." She stated loud and clear, pocketing the phone.

"What-Why? That is absurd," he stated, gesturing to her phone. "You look ridiculous in that photo too you know. You look like a male," he managed to stutter out and tried to keep a stoic demeanour.

"I'm gender fluid, it doesn't matter to me."

Arthur crossed his arms, "And are all Turkish girls like that?"

"No, if I was I would have just posted those on Instagram," she told him, and leaned on the counter (ignoring the groans from Arthur, of course), "There is also one with you using Cinnamon as a chain."

"Wonderful."

"Look, the reason I didn't want to delete these is because…we both seemed to have a lot of fun that night."

"Oh yes, the hangover the next morning was the cherry on the top of the cake too." Arthur unsuccessfully attempted to smother the faint smile that threatened to take its place on his face. "And?"

"I don't want to delete the pictures because these are memories that I don't want us to lose. Even though we don't really remember them," she added, eliciting a laugh from both of them.

"So you're not always a cynical, cold hearted woman? There is a heart somewhere inside of you?"

"Hey, just because I hate people, doesn't mean I hate you. We make a good team."

A smirk grew on Arthur's face. "That brings other people to their knees and brings them to their place?"

"That's the best part about us," she grinned. Arthur smiled too, not wanting to admit that despite their arguments, they were indeed friends. Saadt had almost the same view of their team. "We could rule the world. If we wanted to and no one could stop us."

He rolled his eyes at her comment. "Your ambitious, idealistic dreams hurt me sometimes." She punched his shoulder. Arthur winced. "That hurts me too."

Saadt then pulled out a comb from her jeans. Arthur stared at her in surprise.

"And what's that for?"

"Combing my hair of course."

"Again? I did that last month."

"Oh come on, I'm cooking you dinner, the least you can do is comb my hair." Saadt replied tugging the edges of the lemongrass towel.  
She did make a point there. And she didn't make fun of his culinary skills either. "Fine. But only because you're the reason I haven't starved to death."

"I knew you'd do it. Now comb my hair, wife." She told him and handed him the comb.

Arthur examined the plastic red comb and then looked back at her, arching an eyebrow. "What did you call me?"

"Nothing."


End file.
